You unlocked that journal, and let a few of us inside. Some of us are both amazed and sobered. Some of us are taking casual notes. When you walk out onto the stage, the techies all fall silent. One whispers to the other, wrench in hand, 'she's there.' You may have butterflies aplenty, but when you open your mouth to sing, or bend your knees and turn your torso to dance, there is no hint of that to anyone in the house. You unlocked that journal and let a few be dazzled. We can't get tickets to this show. We need a backstage pass.